Seasons Change

Josiah left on Monday. We had some confusion about when his flight was leaving Rochester. Stacey thought it was leaving at 5:00 p.m., but when she printed the boarding pass late Sunday night, it turned out it was leaving at 1:00 p.m. We had planned a more leisurely departure, but that all changed. We had to leave home at 8:00 a.m. and take him to our Stake President to have him set apart. Pres. Robinson set him apart and gave him a wonderful blessing. From there we went straight to the airport. Saying good-bye was very hard for me. He seemed so young standing there with his luggage. He is actually younger than his brothers were when they left. They were both 19. He just turned 18 in July. His flight left on time and he made his connecting flight in Detroit and then on to Salt Lake City with no problems.

Elder Howe leaving home.

Saying good-bye at the airport.

Geoffrey picked him up in Salt Lake and took him to dinner at In-N-Out, which I’m sure made him happy. He spent the day on Tuesday with Geoffrey and Joni and Ellie and Gwen. On Wednesday they took him to lunch at the Pizza Pie Café in Provo (missionaries eat for free) where other family gathered to see him off. Then they delivered him to the Missionary Training Center. So he’s there now. He wrote us a short email and said he is doing great. We look forward to getting more details when he has more time to write.

Elder Howe with cousins and nieces at the Pizza Pie Cafe.

At home things are rather subdued. Josiah brought a lot of noise and energy and laughter to our home and we miss that. I’m an emotional and sentimental person by nature and Josiah’s departure made me even more so. On Tuesday I was home all day by myself. I was doing a good job of keeping myself busy with canning tomato sauce, doing laundry, and tidying around the house. But when I went to tidy the music room and I found the music he had been diligently practicing (Scott Joplin piano rags and pieces by Erik Satie) still sitting open on the piano, I got all choked up. I gathered the music together and set it aside where it will await his return. I won’t be able to listen to that music for a while. And when I sorted the laundry and found some of his clothes among the items, I shed a tear or two. In the mornings I have to catch myself from calling him downstairs for scripture study. His bedroom is quiet – no music. We’ve set four places at the dinner table several times without realizing it. We’ll adjust, but it’s going to take some time.

I’m excited for Josiah. He’s on one of the great adventures of his life, a life-changing adventure, a noble adventure. He will have experiences that will make him think harder and pray harder and possibly work harder than he ever has (though I wonder about that – he has always been a hard worker). He will gain insight into the gospel and depth to his testimony. He will find joy in serving the Lord. I’m glad for all of that. But he will be different when he comes home, more mature, ready to go out and take on the big tasks of life that await him. I guess I’m being selfish. He has to grow up, but a part of me is sad for that. I was 40 years old when Josiah was born. I knew then that I’d be this old when he reached this stage of his life. I just didn’t know how hard it would be for me to see it happen. Children grow up. All of my children are grown up now and they’ve grown up well. I love them all more than I can express. And I miss them. And I’m waiting here at home whenever they want to come see me.

Our harvest is still underway and it has been a good year for the most part. We’re canning tomatoes every other day. I picked the first of the grapes on Friday and we canned two gallons of grape juice. My new method of growing vegetables (straw bale gardening) has taught me some lessons – what will and won’t grow. On Friday afternoon I opened the bales I’d grown potatoes in expecting (as the book said) to have beautiful potatoes tumble out of the straw. Instead I found that voles had eaten almost every one – and the ones they hadn’t eaten were small. I only got one bushel of little potatoes. Apparently voles consider straw bales to be luxury accommodations. As I pulled the bales apart, I found them riddled with tunnels and nests. With each bale, voles scattered everywhere. I’m going to have to rethink this method. Some things obviously just won’t work here. And now I have to find a way to bring the vole population explosion under control. Standing in the middle of this year’s garden, I’m already planning next year’s garden. That’s how gardens are. You’re always learning new things and there’s always hope for what will come next year.

Grapes on the vine.

The first picking.

Yesterday my Aunt Esther and my cousin Rob Rathfon came for a visit. Rob lives near Middlebury Center over in Tioga County, not far away, but for some reason we hardly ever visit. Aunt Esther was up visiting him for the weekend and they drove over here for the afternoon. It’s been years since we last saw each other. It was so great to visit with them. While they were here we Skyped with my parents and had a nice chat. They stayed and had dinner with us. The Shilligs came over for dinner too. Julie’s parents are visiting and they were here too. Seeing Rob and Esther has made me even more excited for next year’s Rathfon Reunion. I hope all the family will be there.

Dinner with Aunt Esther and Rob, the Shilligs, and the Pitchers.

Cousin Rob and Aunt Esther.

We’ve come to the end of September now. It has been a wonderful month. My garden looked so good almost to the end of the month. It’s officially fall now. The last days of summer were perfect – warm and sunny and summery. But the trees are definitely changing and it’s starting to  look like fall. It looks like the leaves will be bright this year – while they last. Right on cue, the first of the autumn-blooming crocuses (colchicum) opened on Thursday.

The first autumn crocus.

 This morning we had a pretty heavy frost. We knew it was coming, so last night we covered the tomatoes and peppers. The rest of the garden was left to the mercy of the ice. A lot of things were damaged – especially the dahlias, nasturtiums, and morning glories. But it’s fall now, and this is to be expected. But it still makes me sad. Things change too fast this time of year.

This morning's frost.

Frosted dahlia (it's dead now).

The morning glories no longer glorious.

The first color on the hills.